Page 30 of Fake It ’Til You Mate It

I nod. “You, too. Be careful.”

“Thank you. I will.”

Tucking the sachet into my purse, I head out the door.

When I step outside, the night air feels heavier than before. The moon looks too bright, the shadows too long, and somewhere in the back of my mind, something small and instinctive whispers: run.

There’s a predator lurking. For a moment, I freeze, then I force myself to take another few steps away from the community center and the scent-dampener charm inside of the main room. It wears off slowly, and by the time I see the tall figure separate himself from the shadows on the corner, I get a fresh whiff of pine.

Max.

“Honey? Is that you?”

Busted.

I adjust my hold on my purse, turning toward the sheriff. “Max. How are you? What are you doing here?”

“A lead I was following for my current case.” Declan’s murder. “He slipped away through another entrance, but I thought…” He gives his head a short shake.” You’re here. Why are you here?”

Something tells me that, if I say I’m here for the same reason he is, he’s not going to be happy. “I came by the check out the prey circle meeting. Betsy invited me the other day. I was bored. It seemed like it might be interesting.”

And if you’re here because you were looking for Joey the rat—the ‘he’ kinda gives that away—then we really were both heading down the same path, looking for his murderer.

Max can tell. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. I didn’t lie to him so it’s not like he can scent any deception. Still… he knows.

He exhales through his nose, that tiny yet obvious sign of his wolf peeking through. If it wasn’t anyone else, I’d be seeing spots on the corner of my eyes. But it’s not anyone else.

It’s Max.

“You’re not bored, Honey. You’re curious. And curiosity gets people hurt.”

“Well,” I say sweetly, moving a few steps in the direction of Sycamore Street, “I’ve already died once or twice or a hundred times, you know. Perk of being an opossum shifter. I don’t worry about it.”

His jaw twitches. He clearly hates my attempt at a joke, though he doesn’t say so. Rather than do that, he moves with me. “Well, where are you going now? You shouldn’t walk home alone.”

“I didn’t drive,” I admit. “Wasn’t worth the gas for, like, eight blocks so I have no choice. Besides, I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will.”

I look up at him in surprise. Predators like Max rarely admit that a prey shifter can take care of themselves. “Thank you⁠—”

“Because I’ll walk with you.”

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. A babysitter? He wants to be my babysitter?

“I don’t think⁠—”

He’s already matching my pace, long strides eating up the sidewalk. “Humor me.”

I sigh, but don’t argue. Whatever. It’s eight blocks. So long as he stays quiet and I can keep my inner opossum from taking over, shifting, and throwing herself at his feet, I can make it home with my pride—and my secret—intact.

It’s not easy. The more time I spend with Max, the more I don’t understand why I can’t just tell him the truth. At this point, I know I’ll have to. The time when I believed that this could never work between us… that’s over and done with. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t try… but despite how he seems to actually have a vested interest in seeing me survive that goes past me being a possible murder suspect, he treats me like someone to protect.

Someone to coddle.

I don’t want to be coddled. I want to be loved, and while Fate gives you a mate that you can’t help but adore eventually, Max still has no clue that he’s mine and I’m his.

It’s the scent-dampener. That zing that comes with recognizing your fated mate… he hasn’t felt it yet because I’m still hiding myself from him. And I have to. At least until Declan’s murderer is found and Dough You Believe in Me—and, you know, me—is exonerated in the eyes of Moonburrow, I have to keep my distance.